


A good, normal life

by Zaharya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (very mild though), Alternate Universe - Muggle, Based on a Dream, Dog Walking, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, Police Brutality, Racism, Serial Killer Tom Riddle, University Student Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaharya/pseuds/Zaharya
Summary: Draco’s life is quiet and boring — until it isn’t.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	A good, normal life

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic grew out of a dream I had about a dude just going to uni and walking dogs and— well, you'll see. Either way, the dream ended sad and I couldn’t have that, so I wrote this thing with mostly fluff, a hint of plot and very sappy smut (at least I’ve been told it’s sappy, which is fair cause I’m sappy).
> 
> Thanks a lot to [Mehr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehroomiyat) and [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutmyfries/pseuds/whataboutmyfries) for sensitivity reading, as well as [Pluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutodolohov/pseuds/plutodolohov) and [Alex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionDaddy) for the beta!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> —V.

_February 2003_

Draco picked up Sally’s droppings with a grimace. How could one tiny wiener dog poop so much? One of these days he’d get a different job. Right when the workload for his courses eased off and walking other people’s dogs wasn’t convenient exercise he could earn his own money with.

Sally wagged her tail excitedly, looking up at Draco with literal puppy dog eyes. Alright, fine, it wasn’t the worst job in the world. His job was fine, university was fine. For all intents and purposes, Draco had a good, normal life.

Still, it was boring. Everything in Draco’s life was unbearably boring.

 _It hasn’t always been,_ whispered that traitorous voice in his mind.

Draco suppressed a flinch and shook his head. It didn’t do any good to dwell on that. On _him_. 

He finished his round with Sally and went home, keeping his mind busy by reciting all the amino acids found in organic material. His apartment was dark, the blinds of the living room windows shut against the curious eyes of the nosy neighbours across the street. He flicked on the light switch, toed off his shoes and shrugged off his winter coat. In his office everything was exactly as he had left it. As always.

He made his way to the desk and sank into his chair, placing his forehead on his folded arms. For a moment he just sat there, finishing his mental list of amino acids. At least he should be prepared for that exam. The huge exam that was taking place the very next day. The exam he should be focused on.

But his mind was an unruly, disobedient thing and when the sun set it would inevitably return to the one thing he was trying not to think about. Every day, without fail, he’d fall back into a loop of wondering. Wondering where they had all disappeared to. Wondering _why_.

Had _he_ really regretted it that much? But they’d been friends. Was it Draco’s fault? Had he done something?

It was a useless spiral. It had been weeks. Weeks of trying to call that number that was apparently not in use anymore. Weeks of no replies from _him._ He wasn’t coming back.

Draco went to bed, resigned to repeat his routine the next day. And the next. And the next.

He wrote his exam the following day, reproducing a perfect list of essential amino acids. He walked other people’s dogs. He avoided thinking about _him_.

Life went on.

His exams had gone as well as they could have. In fact, his grades were excellent; but Draco’s mood was subpar all the same as he walked down the street with Sally. Admittedly, it always was. Perhaps it was worse today because his father had decided to call, asking pointedly whether Draco had scored a job at the biochemistry department yet. He hadn’t. He was still walking dogs.

His father had never approved of his choices. As the son of a prestigious lawyer, his father had practically expected him to follow in his footsteps. Law or politics would’ve been the obvious choices. It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get his father’s approval for biochemistry—which really was a respectable field. It wasn’t like Draco had dared to go for literature or—the horror— _art_. Biochemistry was a valid field of research! And yet it hadn’t been good enough for Lucius Malfoy.

Nothing ever was.

Sally pulled on her leash, as eager as ever to get to the park. Draco let her drag him along. He honestly wished he had her enthusiasm for, well, anything. The happy little dog was skipping ahead, wagging her tail without a care in the world. Draco envied that stupid dog more than he cared to admit.

He’d had this sort of enthusiasm, once. With _him_. Everything had been exciting with him. They’d done ridiculous things. It had been a little crazy, yes, maybe even a smidge reckless; but it had been fun. Exciting.

Sally barked happily, jerking Draco forward as she jumped up at a man.

“Sally, down! I’m sorry, she’s not usually—“ The rest of his apology died in Draco’s throat as emerald eyes met his gaze.

He looked different and yet he hadn’t changed at all. His hair was a little longer but just as messy as it had always been. He was still unfairly gorgeous; it took Draco’s breath away. Just like the first time they’d met.

* * *

_August 2002_

The club was crowded and hot; it was beyond Draco why he had allowed Blaise to drag him in here in the first place.

“Loosen up, Draco,” Blaise shouted over the music. “You’re supposed to relax, have some fun for once!“

“This is what you consider fun?” Draco retorted incredulously.

Blaise just grinned at him and elbowed his way to the counter to order drinks for them.

Half an hour later Draco was slightly tipsy and not the least bit more comfortable in the smoke-clouded hall. He needed some air. Seeing as Blaise was preoccupied chatting up a fiery looking red-haired girl, he hesitated a moment. Should he interrupt and inform his friend of where he was going? Chances were Blaise wouldn’t even notice Draco’s absence.

Perhaps he should actually just _leave_. But his second cocktail was half-full yet and admittedly quite delicious. A break from the noise would do for now. He cast another glance at Blaise. The red-haired girl laughed at something he said and Draco turned to find the exit.

The cool, clean evening air felt like heaven on Draco’s skin, and he breathed in deeply as the door fell shut behind him. The music bled through the walls, muffled down to dull thumps of bass and faint hints of melodies of whatever song was currently playing. It was blissful silence in comparison to inside.

“Not your scene, huh?”

Draco turned towards the amused voice and found himself staring into the most mesmerising pair of eyes he’d ever seen. His breath caught.

The man looked almost otherworldly as he stood there, casually leaning against the wall with a drink in his hand; warm-toned brown skin stood in stark contrast to bright green eyes, full lips framing white teeth in a mischievous smile, a strong jaw covered in a hint of dark stubble, and wild, curly black hair falling into his face. He was beautiful.

“No, not really,” he heard himself say. At least some part of his brain still appeared to be working properly.

“Mine neither,” said the stranger, his smile broadening a little.

“And yet, here we both are,” replied Draco, giving an answering smile of his own and noting with some satisfaction that the man’s eyes widened slightly.

“Indeed. So, how did you end up here?”

“My friend dragged me along. He’s busy chatting up some girl, figured I’d seize the opportunity to get away for a moment. What about you?”

“Same story, except it wasn’t a friend but my sister who forced me to come. Her girlfriend is stuck at work and she pulled her whole ‘would you let me go alone and risk my safety’ number on me, so here I am.”

He grinned at Draco, green eyes flashing. “It’s complete bullshit, of course. Ginny could take down anyone who so much as thought about touching her against her wishes _and_ she dragged several other people along, too; she wouldn’t even have been alone, she just likes to torture me. So I fled out here, just like you; but I wager it’s a matter of time until we are found.”

As if on cue, the club door opened and Blaise spilled out with the red-haired girl in tow, their fingers linked together.

“Draco!”

“Ginny!”

Blaise blinked owlishly at the man, then at Draco, clearly puzzled by the situation. Draco could relate to the sentiment. The red-haired girl—Ginny, apparently—looked _nothing_ like the stranger Draco was talking to. And yet—

“There you are!” She flung herself at the man with undeniable familiarity, before gesturing behind herself. “This is Blaise, we met inside. Blaise, this is my brother.”

“Your brother,” Blaise deadpanned, his gaze flicking back and forth between the pale ginger girl and the much darker-skinned man, who still held her in a somewhat protective half-hug.

“He’s adopted,” she said dismissively, as her eyes fell on Draco. “Who’s this?”

“That’s my friend, Draco,” answered Blaise before Draco could even open his mouth.

Her brown eyes flashed with mischief and suddenly Draco could see that they were siblings, even if they shared no blood at all.

“Oh! What a lovely coincidence! Guess we both found who we were looking for, then.” She turned to her brother, who in turn had his eyes fixed on Draco with startling intensity. He winced when she swatted him on the arm, and quickly moved away from her—which meant that he moved _towards_ Draco, who once more felt like all breath was being sucked out of his lungs.

“Why are you hiding out here? Come _dance_ with me!” she demanded. Draco probably would’ve obeyed; she was awfully authoritative, despite her small frame.

“You know I don’t dance, Gin.”

“Well, you should! Come on, bro, the others are all inside—even Hermione is braving the dance floor!”

“You got _Hermione_ to join?! Jesus Christ, Gin, did you blackmail her or something?”

“It’s my natural charm,” Ginny quipped.

“Right, your charming way of threatening bodily harm unless you get your will. Unfortunately for you, we both know that you don’t scare me—“

“Debatable.”

“—so that won’t work on me. And I was having a lovely conversation with Draco here, which you very rudely interrupted by the way.”

Draco barely managed to stifle a surprised yelp as the man flung an arm around his shoulders, pulling Draco firmly against his side. They were of the same height, but his build was a bit broader than Draco’s—Draco could feel the solidity of his muscles beneath the thin t-shirt he was wearing, the warmth radiating off of him. His fingers twitched with the sudden urge to touch. He settled for returning the half-embrace. Draco’s stomach gave a flutter when he felt the man’s breath stutter as Draco slid an arm around his waist. _Better breathe yourself, too,_ Draco reminded himself.

Blaise’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline as he stared at Draco with an obvious question in his gaze. Being just as bewildered, Draco could do nothing but give him a helpless look, before focusing back on Ginny, who had narrowed her eyes at them.

Them. Them as in Draco and her ridiculously attractive brother. Her ridiculously attractive brother who for some inexplicable reason was still holding Draco close, confidently staring back at his sister without a care in the world.

“Fine, I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” said Ginny in a tone that signalled clearly that she would not take no for an answer. “If you’re not back inside after that I will come for you—both of you!”

The threat sounded serious, but the man just chuckled, his body vibrating against Draco’s side. “Sure, Gin, I’ll be there. Can’t miss Hermione dancing after all.”

Ginny gave a satisfied nod and spun around right into Blaise’s arms—and promptly kissed him. “Come on, let’s leave those two buzzkills to it. They’ll follow.”

“Uh, alright then,” said Blaise, looking rather taken aback. “See you inside, Draco?”

“Yeah, sure,” Draco replied weakly.

They were gone in a flash. Draco was still trying to process it all when the bright eyed stranger removed his arm from Draco’s shoulders and stepped back.

“Sorry about that, I know she can be a lot. Don’t let her intimidate you, she’s all fluff underneath those teeth.”

“I thought she had a girlfriend?” It was the first thing that came to Draco’s fuzzy mind.

The man laughed. “She does, but they’re very open. Your friend is more Luna’s type, in fact, rather than Ginny’s. Chances are he’ll have a grand time tonight with the two of them.”

Draco gaped at him, incredulous.

“I know, I couldn’t do it either. I’m far too possessive for those kinds of shenanigans.” He flashed Draco another cheeky grin.

“Right,” Draco breathed, utterly disarmed, his mind repeating the word _possessive_ over and over.

“I’m sorry, I guess I can be a lot, too. If you want me to fuck off, just tell me.”

“No!” Draco blurted. “No, no, not at all. I just didn’t expect— Well, I didn’t expect anything when I came here, to be completely honest. I thought I’d have a drink or two, wait until Blaise latches on to someone and then leave. I just didn’t anticipate—“ _You._ Draco gestured vaguely between the door and the man, hoping he’d let it slide.

“Two drinks and a stealth exit, hm? To be fair, your friend _did_ latch onto someone, as you predicted. Which drink is this, then?”

“The second one,” replied Draco. He could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of disappointment in those green eyes. “But it sounded like your sister has included me in her expectations now,” he added quickly. “I wouldn’t dream to disappoint her.”

The blinding smile he received in response made Draco’s stomach flip.

“Yes, that would be unwise; she’s a menace.”

He locked eyes with Draco for a moment, and Draco was once more blown away by _how green_ they were. Like emeralds.

“Right. Uhm,” Draco trailed off, suddenly unsure what to say. “So, you’re adopted?”

_Idiot brain, why am I like this?_

But instead of offended silence, Draco got a laugh in response. “I am, though it took ten years of misery before it worked out. My parents were killed when I was a baby and I grew up with my mother’s relatives who were—how do I put this gently? Racist as fuck. So, obviously, they hated me, but they were obligated to take care of me until a foster family was found. Then I met Ron in secondary school and we became best friends and once he introduced me to his family it was pretty much a done deal. They took me in almost instantly.”

“Ron?”

“Oh, Ginny’s older brother.”

“I thought _you_ were her older brother?” Draco teased.

“One of many. We’re eight, in total. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, Ron, Ginny, and me. Ginny’s the only one who’s younger than me, so we’re all her older brothers.”

Draco stared at him. “You have seven siblings?”

“Yep. And all gingers, mind. What about you, Draco?”

The sound of his own name coming out of that mouth almost made Draco choke on the sip he’d just taken from his almost-empty cocktail.

“Only child,” he coughed.

“I suppose, theoretically, so am I. You done with your drink?”

Draco nodded mutely, not entirely trusting his voice.

“Let’s go inside, then, before Ginny hunts us down.” Warm, calloused fingers wrapped themselves around Draco’s hand, pulling him forward.

“Wait!” Draco exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“I— You listed all your siblings, but you never told me _your_ name.”

Emerald eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’m Harry. Nice to meet you, Draco.”

He, _Harry_ , adjusted his grip on Draco’s hand, shook it once and smiled. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a drink if you agree to stay standing on the sidelines with me.”

With that, Harry turned and pulled Draco back into the club, never letting go of his hand.

* * *

_February 2003_

“Harry.”

Draco’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Harry flinch. God, how he missed that voice.

“Draco,” he replied warily, carefully avoiding those hypnotising silver eyes. The little dog was still trying to jump up at him. “Hey there, Sally.”

“You— You’re here.”

“I gotta run, actually,” Harry forced out, the words tasting like bile in his mouth. “Sorry.”

And run he did, literally; never turning back, only slowing down once he had left the park well behind and was stepping into a tube station. He felt like a coward.

His heart had barely calmed down by the time he pushed open the door to the flat. If you could call it a flat at all. Harry’s stomach twisted a little. Ron and Hermione were only stuck in this poor excuse for a home because of him. Because they stubbornly stood with him in this mess he’d gotten himself into.

“Oh, hi Harry,” said Hermione, glancing up from her books as he walked into the semi-functional kitchen.

Alright, Ron was stuck. Not really—not like Harry was—but a little, since he’d dropped out of the academy, too. Hermione, however, was still going to university. And yet here she was, living with the two of them as if it was the most normal thing in the world to live in an empty house, illegally.

Harry dropped the book Hermione had asked him to pick up next to the others and sat down, staring unseeingly out the window. His mind was still clouded with memories of Draco’s voice, saying his name…

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

He startled and quickly shook his head. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Hermione scoffed. “Right, and I am failing all my courses.”

Harry snorted.

“Come on, tell me.”

With a sigh, he resigned himself to his fate and sank down next to her at the table. She eyed him expectantly.

“I saw Draco,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

Immediately, her neutral expression morphed into one of pity.

“Oh no, Harry.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Are you alright?”

No, he wasn’t. How could he be?

“Maybe you should get back in touch with him,” said Hermione.

Harry glared at her. “You know I can’t do that.”

“You’ve been miserable for _months!_ Admit it, you miss him. For god’s sake, you _love_ him, Harry! And I’m fairly sure those feelings weren’t one-sided before—”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet.

“Then why do you keep denying yourself? Just _call him!_ I know you still have his number memorised, you can borrow my mobile phone.”

“It’s not safe, Hermione! I can’t—“ He let out a frustrated cry and slumped back into the flimsy plastic chair next to her. “Even if he was willing to forgive me for just ghosting him like I did, I can’t do that to him. I can’t involve him in shit like— And don’t you remember what he told us about his father? I won’t risk making things worse for him. It’s better this way. He’s safe this way.”

“Harry—“

“No, Hermione. You’re right, I do love him. Which is exactly why I won’t contact him. I can’t.”

She frowned, but didn’t argue any further. Harry sighed and got up, patting her bushy hair before leaving her to her books. He trudged over to the room that had become his over the past months, lay down on the lumpy mattress and stared at the ceiling, as thoughts of sharp humour and silver eyes took over his mind.

* * *

_November 2002_

Ever since that night Ginny had dragged him to the club, Harry’s entire life felt like it had been bathed in sunlight. Draco was always around. Harry had bought Ginny chocolates the week after without ever saying what for. She knew. Everyone did. Everyone saw the obvious—except, apparently, Draco himself.

Unfortunately, Harry had stuck to his principle of not making any advances to anyone while he was drunk, and his bravado had faded the moment he’d sobered up in the face of Draco’s…well, Draco’s everything. Harry could hardly cope with how beautiful the man was, let alone the way he spoke, and acted, and moved, and just _existed_. In the entire time since they started hanging out neither of them had actually made a move. So they were friends. Really, really close friends. And Harry was _not_ pining. Really, he wasn’t.

“You should just kiss him,” declared Ginny without taking her eyes off Luna who was sitting on the floor in front of her, happily allowing her girlfriend to experiment on her hair.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Right, and risk him running away and never wanting to see me again.”

“We all know that’s not going to happen,” said Fred.

They were hanging out at the twins’ place. During the warmer months, they’d usually just stay outside, but winter was approaching quickly and it was a comfy flat with just enough space to accommodate their little group, so they spent more and more time here these days.

“It could,” Harry insisted.

“Could not,” said Neville with a wide grin. “He joining us today?”

“Yeah, he should be on his way.” Harry pulled out his mobile and slid it open. Draco’s last message was still on the display.

“Show-off,” said Ginny, and flicked a bottle cap at Harry.

“Oi! What was that for?”

She just shrugged and continued to braid Luna’s hair.

“Seriously, though, you should ask him out,” said Ron.

“Who should ask who out?”

Harry whipped his head around to see Draco shrug off his navy-blue coat, hanging it neatly on the vastly underused coatrack before stepping fully into the living room.

“Neville!” Harry blurted before he could think better of it. “Neville should ask out this, uh—“

He trailed off awkwardly, eyes flitting over to Neville whose expression was caught between confusion and a mild glare.

“Didn’t know you fancied blokes,” said Draco, raising an eyebrow in that posh way that made Harry’s insides feel like jelly.

Neville did absolutely not fancy blokes, but everyone else in the room was either in a serious relationship or very openly and exclusively lesbian.

“It’s a recent development, more of an experimental phase, really,” said Neville. Harry vowed to get him a present of some sort.

Draco gave Neville an appreciative nod and sank down on the couch next to Harry, whose heart gave a pathetic flutter when Draco turned to him and smiled that private little smile of his. “Hey.”

“Hi.” God, he was so fucked.

“How’s the academy going?” asked Draco.

Harry shrugged. The police academy wasn’t quite what he had envisioned if he was completely honest. He had expected…more. He wasn’t sure of _what_ , exactly, but more of _something_. Justice, maybe. Honour. Basic human decency. “It’s alright.”

“Very convincing,” Draco drawled, and Harry suppressed a shiver. That fucking voice.

“No, seriously, it could be worse. Smith is almost not being an arsehole these days.”

“Your standards are abysmal.”

“And yours are ridiculous, you posh git.”

“Excuse you, I am a student!” Draco exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock-outrage.

Harry bit back a smile and retorted, “A student with a three bedroom flat.”

“You are the worst,” said Draco, throwing his arms into the air with a dramatic sigh.

He flopped onto his back, stretching his lithe body out across the couch, his feet ending up in Harry’s lap. It wasn’t unusual, he did these things all the time, casually; and yet they still knocked the breath out of Harry’s lungs every time.

Harry tore his gaze from Draco’s face—which took considerable effort—and forced his focus back to the rest of his friends. Thankfully, they’d already continued the conversation into an entirely different direction, though Hermione was watching him with a knowing little smile.

 _Yes, fine._ Maybe he was pining. It really was unfair, though! Draco had just _showed up_ right in front of him without any warning! Out of absolutely nowhere! How was Harry supposed to cope with that?!

For the rest of the evening, Harry made an effort not to get distracted and start up a private conversation with Draco in a room full of people—again. By the time they left the twins’ flat it was dark outside.

“So, how are you really doing?”

Harry glanced over at Draco, hands buried in his coat pockets to keep them warm. The temperatures were approaching freezing point already, soon there’d be sludgy snow covering the streets before the city even hung Christmas lights. “What do you mean?”

“You are the worst. Come on, don’t play dumb. The academy. You hate it there, admit it.”

He sighed. “Yeah, maybe I do. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Anything! Why are you so fixated on this?”

“I dunno,” Harry said with a shrug. “My dad was a detective before—“ _Before he was pointlessly murdered by a fucking serial killer._

Draco’s face softened and he briefly touched Harry’s arm. Even through four layers of fabric it made Harry’s skin tingle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, not your fault,” replied Harry, trying for an easy smile and feeling like he failed when Draco frowned. “Seriously, let’s just go home— I mean, I’ll walk with you. If you want, of course.”

Draco smiled and nodded and Harry could’ve swooned.

They didn’t talk about the academy anymore. Instead, Harry let Draco rant about his courses (“I swear, these imbeciles have never properly structured or organised a single thing in their life!”), his father (“If he mentions ‘advantageous marriage’ one more time I will throw his stupid fine china at the wall.”), and rude pretentious dog owners (“If Sally wasn’t so cute I’d have told Mrs Harper to fuck off right then and there!”). It didn’t really matter to Harry _what_ Draco spoke about, so long as he would keep talking to Harry. He’d listen to just about anything coming out of that mouth.

It took way longer than it should have for them to reach Draco’s flat. Harry slowed as Draco approached the door, feeling unsure about…everything. All of a sudden this felt like a date, even though it definitely wasn’t—hadn’t been. They’d just hung out with all their friends. Well, technically Harry’s friends, though Draco had settled into the group so neatly it really didn’t make a difference. Either way, definitely not a date.

“Do you want to come upstairs for a bit? I think I still have some wine laying around…” Draco’s silver eyes held the tiniest hint of nervousness, and it sent a tingle through Harry’s entire body.

“Yeah, sure.”

Draco’s flat was bigger than the twins’ place, even though they shared their space and he lived alone. It was his father’s doing, as he always insisted. He was adamant that he didn’t need this much space but Harry liked it. Despite the modern and somewhat cold vibe of the building, Draco had managed to make it look cozy and lived in. Admittedly, he’d achieved it mostly through clutter in the form of endless amounts of paper with study notes and diagrams Harry didn’t even try to wrap his head around.

Harry flung his coat onto a chair and pushed a couple books aside to sit down on the couch. He’d spent enough time at Draco’s place by now to feel comfortable moving around and touching things.

“So, wine?” asked Draco.

“Er, sure,” Harry replied, even as he privately decided not to have more than one glass. He didn’t want to get drunk around Draco. The first night they met he’d only barely stopped himself from snogging the man senseless—and he really didn’t like to start stuff like that under the influence. Besides, Draco had been drunk, too. He might’ve regretted it.

No, it was definitely better if Harry stayed somewhat clear-headed.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried about it. Both of them practically forgot about their wine as they talked about everything and nothing. In turn, as if to make up for his lack of awareness regarding his drink, Harry was hyper-aware of the continuously shrinking space between Draco and him.

They were only centimetres apart when Draco’s jaw cracked open in a huge yawn. Just like that, the almost intimate atmosphere between them shattered.

Harry checked his watch, glad for the excuse to duck his head and hide his suddenly rather warm face. “Oh shit, it’s nearly three in the morning!” With an apologetic look he got to his feet. “Sorry for keeping you up, I better go.”

“Don’t be daft, it’s three AM and freezing outside! You can sleep here,” Draco declared.

Harry’s stomach performed an interesting bit of acrobatics at that. He’d never stayed the night before. And he would absolutely do something stupid if he did.

 _Maybe you should_ , whispered that eager voice in his head, the one that had been all for kissing Draco from the moment Harry had first seen those silver eyes.

“I probably shouldn’t, I have to get up early tomorrow for training and Ron will be worried… I shouldn’t.”

Something that might’ve been disappointment flickered over Draco’s face, and Harry’s stomach flipped again. The eager voice was growing louder. Maybe he should.

“If you say so,” said Draco, effectively shattering the thought.

Harry gathered his things in a subdued mood. He couldn’t bring himself to hurry, so he lingered, and Draco seemed disinclined to rush him. It was all a bit awkward and tense in a way it had never been before.

Finally, Harry had his coat all buttoned up and opened the door. “Well, good night,” he said rather quietly, hugging Draco the way he always did to say goodbye. Except the hug lingered just like Harry had and it was far longer than normal until they parted only half as far as usual.

“Good night,” said Draco in barely a whisper.

Their eyes locked. Harry’s mind blanked. His heart was suddenly racing, as if it had been jump-started. _Too close._

Draco’s eyes flickered down to Harry’s lips and Harry stopped breathing. His own gaze dropped—only for a split-second, but when he looked back up and met Draco’s eyes again he knew that Draco had seen it, too.

The whole world seemed frozen.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harry muttered and, throwing all caution in the wind, leaned in.

If meeting Draco had felt like emerging into sunlight, kissing Draco felt like being struck by lightning in the best way. Harry’s skin was buzzing. They both moved instinctively, pulling each other closer as Draco responded and the kiss deepened.

All of a sudden, two months of pining and holding back unravelled inside Harry and he pushed forward, needing to be closer. Draco’s back hit the wall—and his head hit the key hanger, causing him to make small, pained noise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry gasped, pulling away and cradling the back of Draco’s head in his hand protectively.

A breathless laugh was Draco’s only response before his lips were back on Harry’s, parting just enough for a hesitant tongue to prod questioningly. Harry couldn’t stifle a low moan, then, as he allowed Draco to lick into his mouth, responding eagerly.

When they finally broke for air, they were both grinning madly. Draco was holding him close, arms locked firmly around him and Harry made no move to pull away. This was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Sure you won’t stay?” asked Draco, still a little breathless.

Harry laughed softly and pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s lips. “Eager, are we?”

Draco flushed and spluttered, “No! Not— Not that, just—“

“Of course I’ll stay,” Harry cut in, smiling.

“You are the worst,” drawled Draco, even as his entire face lit up with joy.

Harry chuckled. “I’ll have to sleep, though, I really do have to be up again quite soon.”

The answering smile that Draco gave him almost made him reconsider his need for sleep. But by the time they were snuggled up under the ridiculously soft covers of Draco’s bed—Draco had pulled Harry along to his bedroom as if it was the most logical thing in the world and Harry was hardly going to argue—Harry’s fatigue had caught up with him.

“Good night,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to the top of Draco’s head, who had draped himself over Harry’s chest as though he was a giant cushion.

He could feel Draco smile. “Good night.”

It spoke for how late it was that they were both asleep within mere moments.

Far too soon Draco’s alarm clock, that Harry had only narrowly remembered to set, went off, ripping Harry out of the most peaceful sleep he’d had in a while. They’d moved during the night, but were no less entangled than when they’d gone to bed. Draco let out a displeased grumble, curling up into a tight ball and clinging to Harry’s arm that was slung over his waist.

“I have to go,” Harry whispered, carefully freeing himself from Draco’s grip.

With another unhappy noise, Draco cracked open an eye to look at him. It was the most adorable thing Harry had ever seen.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later, alright?” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, which earned him a contented hum.

As quietly as possible, Harry got dressed and freshened up with a bit of mouthwash and deodorant. Draco was already asleep again when Harry returned to drop another kiss to his cheek, before sneaking out of the bedroom. He left the flat with a spring in his step, already imagining what he’d say when he called Draco once he was done at the academy for the day.

He’d ask him out, Harry decided. Properly. For dinner at a fancy restaurant, or maybe to go to the theatre together. Something worthy of how special Draco was. For once, he was glad for the money he’d inherited from his parents, even though he rarely made use of it out of respect for the Weasley’s more limited financial prospects.

For Draco, everything had to be perfect.

He was still smiling when he arrived at the academy and Ron greeted him with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Harry just rolled his eyes, changed into his uniform and they got to work.

And then it all went to hell.

* * *

_February 2003_

Draco’s mind was reeling. After _weeks_ of being unable to find any trace of Harry, seeing him right in front of him all of a sudden was…overwhelming. Not that Harry was still there. He’d run off, leaving Draco standing there alone, frozen in place by pure shock.

Sally tugged on her leash. With a start Draco came back to himself, looking down at her as she stood there wagging her tail, completely oblivious of the monumental occurrence the world had just thrown at Draco.

Numbly, he allowed the dog to pull him into the park. The park Harry had just appeared in and disappeared from again in the blink of an eye. Harry, who had vanished for weeks the day after they’d kissed for the first time. Harry who hadn’t even met Draco’s eyes before running away just now.

Bitterness seeped into Draco’s bones. So that really was it. Harry regretted what happened and instead of at least saving their friendship, he’d decided to simply cut Draco out of his life. The thought hurt more than Draco wanted to admit.

He brought Sally back to Mrs Harper, accepting his pay without so much as a word, and trudged home. Everything looked even bleaker than it had during the past weeks. London was grey and cold and Draco felt the dullness oozing into his skin, turning him just as grey and just as cold.

The door slammed shut behind him, plunging the hallway into near total darkness. He stood motionless for a moment, then it was all too much and a lump formed in his throat, tears filling his eyes, threatening to spill over his face.

He gulped in a ragged breath, trying to pull himself together. God, he really was pathetic. He hadn’t even known Harry for that long. Two months (almost three, if he was being precise) was hardly enough to justify this— this— _reaction_.

His body ignored the rationalisation. Trying not to completely dissolve into sobs, Draco leaned against the door—and promptly sank down to the floor.

_Pathetic._

Draco wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, in the dark, when his mobile buzzed. The number on the display was unfamiliar, but he was eager for anything that’d distract him from this throbbing, painful feeling in his chest.

> _Hello Draco,  
>  _ _Harry refused to contact you, but as his friend it is my responsibility to keep him from making stupid mistakes. I believe you have a right to know what’s going on. Come to this address, now if possible:  
>  _ _66, Gillywater Street, SE23 7TT  
>  _ _If he won’t explain, I will. Let me know if you’re coming.  
>  _ _Hermione_

Draco stared at the message in pure disbelief. He hadn’t even known that Hermione had a mobile phone, none of Harry’s other friends did. And if Harry didn’t want her to contact him, how had she gotten his number? Did that mean that Harry had given it to her? But Harry’s mobile was—

He sat up abruptly. None of that mattered. None of it mattered because regardless of the hows and whys, he had an address right in front of him that held the promise of finding Harry. The promise of confronting him. The promise of _answers_.

Resisting the urge to rush out right away, Draco hurried to the bathroom to wash his face at least—and it was a good thing that he did. He was a mess. His pale skin was blotchy and red, dry tear tracks streaking his cheeks. After making himself presentable again, he had the sense to look up where the place Hermione summoned him to actually was, before leaving his flat.

> _On my way._

His emotions kept swinging wildly back and forth between hope and anger for the entirety of the short ride on the tube, followed by a five minute walk through an area Draco had never been to before. When he arrived at 66, Gillywater Street, he almost turned around and left, because it had to be a joke. A poor, hurtful, cruel prank.

The duplex house was clearly abandoned, the windows on the ground floor barred with wooden planks covered in graffiti. The entire front wall was covered in spray paint, actually, and not the artistic kind that was meant to decorate a facade. No, this was layers upon layers of slogans and haphazard symbols with varying levels of offensiveness.

Draco almost walked away. He would have, had the window on the first floor not been open, Hermione’s unmistakable bushy hair clearly visible from the street as she sat on the windowsill, her voice floating down to Draco. She sounded angry.

Gritting his teeth, Draco strode up to the door ready to knock or ring a bell, only to find it open, as if it had been waiting for him. When the door to the upstairs flat was open as well, Draco realised that was probably quite accurate. Hermione must’ve opened both doors for Draco to let himself in without Harry noticing.

Because Harry was right there in the kitchen, arguing heatedly with Hermione with his back to the hallway where Draco had come to a halt.

“For the last time, Hermione, let it go! You’re pushy on your best days, but this is a new extreme! Why are you being so obnoxious about this?!”

“Because you are being an idiot,” Hermione retorted sharply, just as her eyes flickered to Draco for the briefest second, before immediately focusing back on Harry. “You miss him.”

“So?! In case you haven’t noticed, life doesn’t owe you anything; just because I miss him doesn’t mean I can have him.”

Draco’s heart accelerated. Miss him?

“You are the most mulish moron I’ve ever met.”

“Bully for you,” Harry snapped.

“I just don’t understand _why_ —“

“For fuck’s sake, Hermione! How many times do I have to repeat myself?! There are _so_ many reasons why! First and foremost that it isn’t bloody _safe!”_ Harry’s voice had risen to a shout. “I cannot involve him in—“ He made a wide sweeping gesture. “—all _this.”_

“Shouldn’t it be Draco’s choice to decide what he wants to be involved in?” asked Hermione, and Draco only narrowly managed to stifle a gasp at the sudden confirmation that they were talking about him.

Harry scoffed, sounding bitter as he said, “It’s bad enough that you and Ron are here with me. You really should—“

“Don’t divert now,” Hermione cut him off. “This isn’t about Ron and me, we made our choice. This is about Draco and why you’re not even offering him one. Harry, you’re _miserable_. You have been for weeks.”

“Big fucking surprise! Do you expect me to be happy while the very police department I worked for is searching for me? Do you maybe want me to perform a little happy dance because apparently the system is still so fucked that I’m practically gifted with criminal records just because of the colour of my skin? Or maybe I should be thrilled about living in this dumpster of a place because someone is trying to murder me!”

He was yelling again, and Draco realised that he’d never heard Harry raise his voice before. Not like this.

Everything inside him itched to reach out, to comfort Harry, hold him, calm him down. But it was obvious that Draco was still far from understanding the full picture, so he held back.

“Of course not,” said Hermione, her tone much gentler than before. “But you know that’s not what I meant. You’re miserable because you miss Draco. I know you’re trying to protect him, but have you considered that it’s not your job to do that? He’s an adult, he can make his own choices.”

“And what if he chooses to stay with me, hm? What then? Wait until the cops knock on his door, his father hears about it and he’s disowned? Or maybe wait for Riddle to come back to finish me off and risk Draco getting in that madman’s line of sight? Risk him becoming collateral damage?” Harry shook his head. “I can’t do that, Hermione, I can’t put him in danger. I love him. Which is why his safety is more important than my feelings.”

For the second time that day, Draco’s mind was reeling, struggling to grasp what had just happened.

_I love him. IlovehimIlovehimIlovehim._

“You really are the worst.”

Harry whirled around, emerald eyes going wide as they finally met Draco’s again after so many weeks. It felt like drawing a deep breath after staying underwater for too long.

“Draco,” Harry breathed, and it sounded so fond and yet so hurt it made Draco’s heart clench.

Without thinking twice, Draco closed the distance between them, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, barely long enough for Harry to make a surprised little noise before Draco pulled away to envelop him in a crushing embrace, burying his nose in Harry’s neck and breathing in his scent.

Harry stood frozen, probably in shock, for several long seconds—long enough for a flicker of insecurity to spike up in Draco’s gut. Just when he was about to let go, though, Harry’s arms finally moved around him, clutching back with a fierceness that spoke for itself.

Draco glanced up at Hermione, sending her a silent thank you and receiving a gracious nod in return. She looked exceptionally pleased with herself. It was justified, Draco supposed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Harry finally, loosening his grip to pull back just enough so he could look at Draco.

“Hermione messaged me.”

Harry turned to look at her with a frown. “How?”

“With my mobile phone, of course,” quipped Hermione.

“I mean how did you get his number?” said Harry, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Oh, from your contacts.”

“What?! You turned my mobile on? Hermione—“

“That was two weeks ago and nothing happened,” Hermione interrupted.

Harry stopped short, then scowled. “You still shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know, and I apologise for invading your privacy and getting into your stuff—but you were being bullheaded and I had to do _something_.”

“I—“

“Harry,” Draco cut in, and emerald eyes flew back to him. “I’m glad she did it. I missed you.”

Harry’s expression softened. For a second, Draco thought he was going to kiss him again, but then his face crumpled and he stepped away instead. “I can’t.”

Hurt spiked in Draco’s gut. Hurt that rapidly morphed into hot fury, as he closed the distance again and gripped Harry’s wrist, snarling, “Like hell. That’s not your decision alone, it’s mine, too. Don’t you dare try and disappear on me again!”

To Draco’s satisfaction, that rendered Harry speechless. Hermione was watching them with a smug smile.

“I have nothing to offer you,” said Harry, having found his voice again.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t!”

“Well, I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it,” Draco added quickly when Harry opened his mouth to object. “Whatever happened, whatever is still going on; I don’t care. I am not leaving and you can’t make me.” He wrapped his free hand around the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in to rest their foreheads together. “And don’t even try to pretend like you don’t want me around, I heard every word.”

For a long, tense moment, Harry looked like a trapped animal searching for a way to escape, before his resistance melted away. “Alright.”

Draco kissed him again, and this time Harry kissed back.

“Well, now that that’s settled, my job here is done,” said Hermione. “I’m off to meet Ron; I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.”

Before either of them could respond, she’d already picked up her bag and was out of the kitchen. The front door slammed closed.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then Harry sighed. “She orchestrated this entire thing, didn’t she.”

Draco nodded. “Mhm. I am not sure how, though.”

“She sent me to pick up a book for her at the London Library because I ‘looked like I could use a walk’, according to her,” said Harry.

“That’s not a university library…but it’s right next to Green Park, which—”

“Which is where you usually go with Sally, yes,” Harry finished. “She probably timed it so I’d be there when you are, too, sneaky little schemer she is. Also explains why she suddenly started this argument again.”

Draco had to admit that he was impressed. “Why not just message me? Why the setup?”

“She probably hoped that seeing you would be enough to make me do it myself.” Harry blushed. “I’m sorry. For running away at the park. And for disappearing in general, I—“ He sighed. “At first, I wanted to contact you but I couldn’t. Once things calmed down, though, I started to doubt whether I _should_ —whether it’d be safe, whether it’d be fair to you. I was also convinced you’d never forgive me for disappearing without a word, so staying away sounded like the easier option for everyone. So I did. I thought it was for the best. You’d move on and be safe.”

“You daft git, as if I could just move on,” Draco scoffed. He pulled Harry over to the table and sat down. “I think it’s time you told me what actually happened.”

Harry grimaced. “That’s going to take a while.”

“I don’t care, I want to hear everything.”

“Fine,” Harry conceded, sitting down across from Draco with a wary look on his face.

“So,” said Draco, looking at him expectantly. “Tell me.”

And Harry did. He rehashed what had happened to his parents all those years ago, a story Draco knew already. A serial killer had targeted them; he had ended up behind bars after killing them and giving Harry that scar on his face. For some ridiculous reason Draco could hardly fathom, said killer, Tom Riddle, had now apparently been released after twenty-one years in prison—and immediately went looking for Harry to finish what he started.

Harry’s mood darkened when he described how Riddle had come at him, how he’d used what he’d learnt at the police academy to defend himself, only to be restrained by his own trainer who’d been the officer in charge. They’d let Riddle go without recognising him, and instead attempted to arrest Harry for assaulting an ‘innocent bystander’ for no reason.

“Nobody believed me when I told them who he was, what he’d done. I didn’t truly understand what was really going on, until Smith called me a—“ He broke off and shook his head with a grimace, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. “I realised then that they’d never see me as an equal, no matter what I did; they didn’t even trust my word over that of a stranger, just because Riddle is white and I’m not. Ron kinda lost his shit at Smith, and Yaxley threatened to arrest him, too.”

Harry looked up at him and Draco’s heart clenched when he saw the wetness in his eyes. “When Yaxley let go of me for a moment, I ran. Ron followed. It all got a little ridiculous after that, with Smith trying to pursue us and Katie, bless that woman, tripping him up. Anyway, we went back to our flat and I started to pack my things. Ron said I was being stupid, but only like an hour later Yaxley was actually at our door trying to arrest me again. We made it out, but I saw Riddle lurking right across the street; he must’ve followed me to see where I live, so we couldn’t really go back after that—or to any of our family or friends, if he followed again. We wandered around sort of aimlessly for a while, until we stumbled upon this place. We’ve been here ever since.”

He sighed. “I tried to get Ron to go to our parents’ house the next day—both Riddle and Yaxley are only searching for me, not him—but he and Hermione are being stubborn about it. Say it’s not safe for me to be alone. Hermione went to get the rest of our stuff out of the flat and to our parents’ place since Riddle doesn’t know her face. She saw a notice on the door that I’m expected to present myself at the police department. Thankfully, I’m clearly not a high priority for them, so I can move around the city without too much risk. From the police, at least; Riddle is a different story.”

“Have you seen him again?” asked Draco, his voice quivering a little. The entire story was quite frankly insane.

“Not since that day, no. I don’t really leave this place a lot.” He looked embarrassed.

Draco sat back, trying to digest everything Harry had just told him. After hearing the full story, he could even somewhat understand why Harry had avoided him. He’d probably have done the same if their positions were reversed; the thought of anything happening to Harry was unbearable. Which was why Draco was more sure than ever that he wasn’t leaving Harry’s side again under any circumstances.

“You can come live with me,” he said without thinking twice.

Harry’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Live with me,” repeated Draco. “I even have a guest room if, well, if you don’t want to— I have space, more than enough of it.”

“I can’t just freeload off of you!” Harry protested.

“Yes, you can. I want you to—though you’ll have to pay for groceries, I’ve seen how much you eat.” The light teasing worked, and Draco saw Harry’s lips twitch with a smothered smile. “But this place— I won’t let you live in such conditions. I get that you don’t want to go to the Weasley’s because the police is looking for you, but this is no way to live! And if you get out of here, so do Ron and Hermione.”

It was a little manipulative to use Harry’s friends against him like this, but Draco hardly cared for specifics at the moment. Sure enough, Harry’s expression morphed from stubborn defiance to unsure guilt in a heartbeat.

“And if Ron doesn’t want to go to your parents’ place either, there’s still the couch,” Draco doubled down. “I’m sure we can even fit Hermione in somewhere, too, just— You can’t stay here, Harry, I won’t accept it. Not when I have a flat that’s way too big for me anyway.”

After clearly struggling with himself for a moment, Harry argued, “It puts you at risk. If Riddle sees me with you—”

“Then _I’ll_ call the police,” said Draco. “They will believe me; especially if my father hears about it.”

Harry scowled, and Draco reached out to squeeze his hand.

“I know it’s not fair. They should believe _you,_ simply because you are telling the truth. They’re bigoted wankers and shouldn’t be in any position of power whatsoever—but unfortunately they are. So let me help you, let me have your back until Hermione makes her way straight to the top and overhauls the government.”

That finally got Harry to laugh a little. Draco squeezed his hand again.

“Come live with me. You can look for your own place once this mess is sorted, but I won’t let you stay here for god knows how long.”

Harry exhaled slowly. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, fine. But you have to promise me that you’ll tell me if I bother you in any way—“

Draco cut him off with a kiss. It was an awkward angle as he was leaning over the table, but it still sent a tingle through his entire body. The sudden sound of the front door closing had Draco pull back hastily. Harry looked a little dazed, and Draco had to suppress a grin.

A moment later, Ron entered the kitchen, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw Draco. “Well, would you look at that. I take it Hermione’s plan worked out, then? You’re gonna stop moping around?”

“I wasn’t moping!” Harry spluttered. “But yes, Hermione’s scheming worked perfectly. Speaking of Hermione, where is she?”

“At the store, why?”

“Because you’re moving,” said Draco. Harry gave him a surprised look. “What, did you think I’d leave here without you? No, you’re coming to mine _today.”_

“No, I— How did you— Never mind.”

“Are you serious?” asked Ron.

“Of course I am serious, I have a guest room and a couch, there’s plenty of space for all three of you.”

Ron stared at him, then grinned widely. “I knew some day it’d come in handy that you’re a posh git! Let’s get out of here, Harry.”

By the time Hermione arrived they had already finished packing up; all three of them had only brought basic necessities to this temporary shelter—with the exception of Hermione, who never went anywhere without books.

“We’re leaving?”

“We’re leaving,” confirmed Ron.

Hermione beamed at them. “Wonderful, I bought ingredients for a proper dinner.”

“A proper dinner we wouldn’t be able to cook in this kitchen. You really are rather confident in your plans, aren’t you?” teased Harry.

“Would you say my confidence is misplaced?”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Come on, then, let’s go,” said Draco, gathering up two of the bags.

Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *

“That was delicious, Harry, I didn’t know you could cook,” said Draco. They were sitting around Draco’s dining table, sated and lazy after a generous meal.

Harry shrugged. “I had a lot of practice.”

“You should come to our place sometime, mate, Mum loves to cook for guests,” said Ron. “Besides, now that you two finally—“ He gestured between Harry and Draco. “—she’ll want to meet you anyway.”

“She doesn’t even know about that, Ron,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll bloody well tell her when I get home, won’t I?” Ron replied with a laugh.

Harry furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Actually, speaking of home, we should get going,” said Hermione.

“You’re not staying here?” asked Draco, voicing Harry’s thoughts.

It was strangely comforting to Harry how he kept doing that; how he kept saying the exact thing Harry was about to say, understanding immediately what Harry meant with things as if he could look inside his head. It made Harry feel like all those weeks of painful separation never happened.

“No, we’re going to stay with Ron’s parents. Thank you for offering, though.”

Harry felt his gut twist with guilt again. How did he even deserve friends like them?

“Of course,” said Draco.

Their goodbyes were said swiftly. Harry gave both of them a tight hug, quietly thanking them for everything they did for him, and soon enough the door fell closed behind them.

Suddenly, the air felt much heavier than it had before as Harry turned towards Draco, his heartbeat speeding up with sudden nervousness. Judging from Draco’s expression, Harry wasn’t the only one who’d just realised that they were alone, again, right where he had kissed Draco for the first time all those weeks ago.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, only to draw a complete blank as to what. God, how had he even convinced a man like Draco to be his friend, let alone anything more? And it was obvious that they were more, now; Draco had held his hand the entire way from their makeshift shelter to his flat, had kissed him softly when Ron and Hermione had left the kitchen while Harry was cooking. And yet, Harry felt a niggling feeling of insecurity rise in him, now that they were alone.

“Let’s clean up and put away your stuff,” said Draco after a beat of silence.

“Right, yeah.” Harry followed him back to the living room.

The table was cleared in no time, and since Draco’s apartment had a dishwasher there was hardly anything to clean in the kitchen. Harry glanced over at Draco as he picked up his backpack. Draco had mentioned a guest room; did that mean he wanted Harry to stay there, or had he just been trying to be courteous?

“Where to?” Harry forced himself to ask, half-dreading the answer.

Draco blushed, silver eyes turning shy. “I mean, there’s the guest room if you’d prefer—“

“And if I don’t?” Harry’s mouth was dry, his heart hammering in his throat.

He needn’t have worried, though, because as soon as he’d asked the question Draco’s eyes darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Then you know where my room is, or have you already forgotten?” Draco drawled in that voice that went straight to Harry’s libido.

Harry had definitely not forgotten. As soon as he reached Draco’s bedroom, Harry found himself pressed against the wall and Draco’s hands all over him.

“Draco,” he groaned, heat pooling rapidly in his abdomen as Draco nipped at his jaw. Cupping Draco’s face, he pulled him into a heated kiss that drew a soft moan from Draco’s throat. If Harry hadn’t been leaning against the wall, his legs might’ve given away at the sound.

They snogged for what could’ve been minutes or hours—Harry wouldn’t have been able to tell. Only once Draco’s hand slipped beneath his shirt did a tiny, non-horny part of Harry’s brain pipe up, reminding him that he hadn’t had a shower in several days.

“Wait,” he gasped, pulling away with some effort.

Draco’s eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide. “What’s wrong?”

Harry squirmed a little, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m not— I haven’t— There wasn’t any working shower at that house, we went to public facilities but— I, er, I haven’t really had a chance to wash all that frequently.”

Draco stared at him for a moment and Harry felt his face heat. Draco’s voice was full of exasperation when he exclaimed, “You daft prat, why didn’t you say anything earlier? I could’ve cooked and you could’ve taken a bath instead!”

Whirling around rather dramatically, Draco was off, pulling an immensely fluffy towel from a drawer and thrusting it into Harry’s arms along with what looked like a bathrobe, before scurrying over to the bathroom. A little perplexed, Harry followed—and quickly put a hand on Draco’s arm to stop him.

“A shower is more than enough,” said Harry, taking the drain stopper from him and placing it back next to the faucet.

Draco frowned.

“Seriously,” Harry reaffirmed. He dropped the towel and clothes next to the sink and leaned in, hovering only millimetres from Draco’s face, lips almost brushing. “A shower is faster, too.”

Harry could feel the breath rushing from Draco’s lungs warm on his face. He smiled and closed the last bit of distance between them, revelling in the softness of Draco’s lips.

“Alright, you win; shower it is,” said Draco.

After a quick explanation of all the knobs and levers, Draco left him to it. The hot water was heavenly. Nevertheless, Harry didn’t linger under the spray any longer than necessary for him to wash—thoroughly—using some of Draco’s impressive arsenal of products. He chose by smell, mostly, after realising that there were several options for both shampoo and body wash. Only vaguely recalling Hermione’s lecture on proper curl-care, he even took a bit of conditioner to help work out the knots in his hair with Draco’s comb. It was still near-impossible—as usual—but the desire to look somewhat presentable won out over his impatience. Barely.

Finally, he was done, turned off the shower and dried off, quickly brushing his teeth for good measure. He felt clean and better than he had in weeks. And nervous.

“Stop it,” he murmured to himself as he pulled on the robe. This was Draco.

_Exactly; beautiful, wonderful, impossibly perfect Draco._

Draco who had chosen him in spite of everything, who had insisted that Harry came to live at his flat.

_Beautiful, wonderful, impossibly perfect Draco._

His Draco.

Harry shook himself and determinedly left the bathroom. His confidence—or lack thereof—was erased from the equation as soon as he pushed open the bedroom door. Draco was lounging on the bed with nothing but pants on and a book in his hands, and Harry’s mind blanked.

He was across the room in a heartbeat, pushing the book aside as he slid onto Draco’s lap, kissing him with fervour. Draco didn’t seem to mind in the slightest and the book clattered to the floor, forgotten. Harry’s skin was hot and tingling wherever it met Draco’s, even if it was only a brief brush of wandering fingertips.

Harry had fantasised plenty about Draco during the past weeks, his imagination feeding off of his memories of the far too few kisses and touches they’d shared. No fantasy could ever compare to this, though. He felt like he was burning, the need to touch every centimetre of Draco’s body driving him like a compulsion.

Draco let out a whimper that went straight to Harry’s cock. They were both hard and Harry ground down his hips instinctively. Even through the thin layer of fabric of Draco’s pants between them, the heat and friction of Draco’s erection against his own was glorious. Another whine escaped Draco’s throat and he pulled Harry closer, pushing the bathrobe aside impatiently. It landed on the floor within a heartbeat, leaving Harry fully naked.

“Not fair,” panted Harry between kisses, tugging at Draco’s waistband.

Draco shimmied down on the bed until he was flat on his back, giving Harry a challenging smirk. “Make it fair, then.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, and the pants joined the bathrobe on the floor only a moment later. Harry paused, taking in the sight before him. Draco was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Scratch that, the most beautiful person, man or woman—the most beautiful human, no, _being_ he’d ever seen. It took his breath away.

“Harry,” Draco whined, reaching out to pull him closer again.

Snapping out of his stupor, Harry descended on Draco, hands roaming the expanse of smooth, pale skin as he mouthed wet kisses along Draco’s neck.

“God, Draco, I want you,” he panted between kisses. “So much. Want to take you apart.”

“Fuck, Harry!” Draco arched into him as Harry ground his hips again.

“Can I? Please, baby, let me.”

“God, yes, please,” Draco moaned.

Harry kissed him deeply, exploring Draco’s mouth with his tongue, swallowing Draco’s gasp when Harry’s fingers closed around his cock. Draco was reaching for him as well, but Harry shuffled further down the bed, parting Draco’s legs to situate himself between them.

“Harry!” The plea in Draco’s voice sent a thrill through Harry—the thought that this was his doing, that Draco sounded like this for him.

Rather than responding, he caught Draco’s gaze, holding it as he replaced his hand with his mouth. Draco threw back his head with a groan, fingers sinking into Harry’s hair.

Harry wasn’t inexperienced, he’d been with both men and women and always enjoyed himself. But he had never felt like this. Nothing had ever felt like this; like Draco, heavy and hard in his mouth, tasting like heaven and radiating heat that reached down to Harry’s core. It was overwhelming in the best way.

By now a constant stream of delicious little noises was falling from Draco’s lips, spurning Harry on. He wanted to see Draco come apart.

His hand wandered from Draco’s thighs inwards until he found his bollocks, rolling them briefly in his palm before reaching further back, cautiously prodding at Draco’s hole.

The response was immediate. Draco tensed, then groaned as he pushed ever so slightly forwards.

Harry pulled his mouth off of Draco’s cock, shivering at the whine he received in response. His own libido agreed wholeheartedly, but he resisted the urge to dive right back in. He wouldn’t go any further without making sure. “Can I?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” hissed Draco.

“Do you have—“

Draco moved before he could finish his question, pulling himself up and twisting towards his bedside table. The sudden distance between them left Harry feeling bereft, but it also cleared his mind a little. God, he could drown in Draco—he _was_ drowning in Draco.

Having found a bottle of lube, Draco turned back to Harry, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him into a heated kiss that had Harry tumbling on top of him. Draco’s wet erection slid against Harry’s own and he moaned, suddenly feeling far too close to climaxing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, as Draco ground up against him. “Fuck, wait, I won’t last this way.”

“Then don’t,” Draco murmured, before catching Harry’s lower lip between his teeth.

A zing of arousal shot through Harry and he gripped the base of his cock to keep himself in check. Draco’s grin was carnal. Blunt fingernails travelled down Harry’s neck, sending hot shivers down his spine.

“I want to,” he managed to say. Draco was nibbling on his ear and one of his hands had found Harry’s nipple, teasing it. It was rather difficult to focus on forming words. “I want this to be good for you.”

Draco pulled back to look at him, silver irises dark and almost entirely swallowed by blown pupils. “Anything with you is good for me.”

Harry bit back a moan. “I missed you so much, god, you have no idea,” he said between kisses. “I dreamt about you constantly, couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I knew I probably hurt you by disappearing. It killed me. Every day, Draco. So please, just—”

“Harry,” Draco breathed, silver eyes wide.

“Let me show you how much I missed you, Draco, how much you mean to me. Let me give you everything.”

A soft whimper escaped Draco’s throat as he grabbed Harry’s face with both hands and surged up into a fierce kiss that had Harry’s head spinning. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining as they latched onto Harry’s.

“You are everything.”

Harry’s heart nearly stopped. Probably the only reason it didn’t was that Draco was kissing him again which felt more effective than a defibrillator. He might’ve let go, then, too overwhelmed by emotions to stay lucid; but only a moment later Draco pressed the bottle of lube against his chest, the cold of the plastic grounding Harry just enough to remind him what he’d been about to do.

With some effort he wrenched himself away from Draco’s sinful mouth just long enough to coat his hand with lube and grasping both their erections in it.

“Fucking hell, Harry, you’re not the only one who’s close!” yelped Draco.

Harry grinned but let go after merely a couple strokes, fingers dipping lower once more. Draco’s breath stuttered as Harry teased his rim.

“If I hurt you—“

“You won’t,” Draco cut him off, voice rough and breathy.

“But if I do, you have to tell me immediately. It’s been a while since—“ Harry trailed off.

Draco put a hand on his cheek and smiled. “For me, too. I promise I’ll tell you.” His smile turned carnal. “Now fuck me already.”

“God, Draco,” Harry groaned, his whole body flushing with heat as he pushed in a finger, revelling in the way Draco’s breath rushed out of him.

Harry took his time with preparing Draco, working his way up to three fingers, carefully stretching him. At some point, Draco suddenly cried out and Harry quickly returned his fingers to that spot, grinning proudly when he got the same reaction again. Soon enough, Draco was writhing beneath him, scratching Harry’s back as he scrabbled for purchase.

“Harry, Harry please, come on,” he whined—and how could Harry refuse him?

After wiping his fingers on a tissue Draco had apparently retrieved along with the lube—Harry hadn’t noticed if he was completely honest—he paused. “Condom?”

Draco already held it out to him. Harry chuckled. “It’s like you’re a wizard the way you just conjure everything out of nowhere.”

“Will you finally fuck me if I say abracadabra?”

“You don’t need a spell to get me to fuck you,” said Harry, putting on the rubber and coating it in lube. “You already enchanted me.”

“That was disgustingly sappy,” Draco snorted, wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips as he lined himself up.

“True, though,” said Harry and pushed in, drawing groans from both their chests.

Despite both their eagerness and Draco’s encouragement to keep going, Harry forced himself to go slow, carefully watching for any signs of discomfort.

“Fuck, yes, Harry, god—“ Draco kept babbling the entire torturous time that it took until Harry bottomed out and stilled with a groan.

“You alright?” he asked breathlessly.

“Fucking marvellous,” panted Draco.

Harry kissed him again, slow and deep. Draco melted into it, tightening his legs around Harry to pull him in even further.

“You’re marvellous,” he whispered. Then his silver eyes darkened. “Now for the love of god, _fuck me_.”

Whatever self-restraint Harry had left evaporated. He obeyed.

Draco was tight and hot and perfect and Harry really didn’t know how long he could keep himself from coming. He quickly found a rhythm and it didn’t take long until he found Draco’s prostate again. Trying his best to keep the angle consistent he pounded into him, mind hazy with pleasure and need, an endless string of “Yes, yes, god, Harry, faster, please, oh _fuck_ —” still falling from Draco’s lips.

Draco reached for his own cock, but Harry batted his hand away and replaced it with his own, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Harry’s own pleasure was building relentlessly. He felt oversensitive already even though he hadn’t come yet. Just the sight and sound of Draco writhing beneath him was nearly too much to handle.

“You are so beautiful,” Harry panted. “So fucking perfect.”

“Harry, fuck, I— I’m close, fuck, I’ll—“

“Come for me, Draco, baby,” said Harry, nearing the edge himself.

Draco cried out and came, his muscles clenching so hard around Harry’s cock that it almost pushed him over as well. Harry stroked him through it and with only a few more thrusts reached his own climax, collapsing on top of him with a groan.

It took a moment until either of them could catch their breath. Then Draco started to squirm a little, pressing light kisses all over Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry pulled out carefully and got rid of the condom, wrapping it in a tissue, before falling onto the bed next to Draco. He wrapped his arms around him, dropping a sloppy kiss on his cheek that made Draco giggle a little.

“Well, that was…” Harry couldn’t find an appropriate word.

“It was everything,” said Draco softly. His silver eyes were bright and full of emotion. Harry wanted to drown in them.

“I love you.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but his mouth was faster than his brain. 

Draco’s eyes widened and Harry quickly added, “You don’t have to respond, I know it’s far too soon for it, but…I know how I feel and how I felt these past weeks. And technically you already heard it, but it’s different when—“

“I love you, too.”

Harry barely had time to suck in a sharp breath before Draco’s lips were on his. He surrendered to it, too overwhelmed and worn out to do more than following Draco’s lead.

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless and grinning madly, Harry felt as boneless as if he’d had a second orgasm. Draco cuddled into him and for a while they just stayed there, unwilling to move and break their little bubble of bliss.

Eventually, though, Harry’s thoughts darkened again, returning to the mess he was in. Draco must’ve noticed him tense.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Everything,” Harry sighed, absent-mindedly running his fingers along Draco’s skin. “I have no idea what to do. I don’t even have a job anymore and I— I don’t want to go back. Remember what you said, about me hating the academy? Well, you were right. And now, after all this, I don’t think I’d ever feel like I belonged there.” He sighed again. “I just have no idea what else there is for me. It was always this, I never even considered anything else.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Brilliant move, Potter. Now I have nothing.”

“What about your inheritance?” asked Draco.

“I mean, yeah, that’s still there, but I can’t just rely on that. At some point that money will be gone and then what?” He made a frustrated noise. “And why am I even thinking about this? It’s not like I can actually go look for a job, even if I did find something I could do; Yaxley would have me arrested as soon he catches wind of it. Hermione says I should take Yaxley to court, but there’s no way I’d win that.”

“Actually,” said Draco, sitting up a little so he could look at Harry, “you could very well win that. You did nothing wrong, there are witnesses. The problem only occurred because that arsehole of a boss didn’t believe you when you told him who Riddle was. But Riddle is on record. In fact, it’s very unlikely that you would lose such a case. And as it happens, I have a lawyer.”

“No. No way, do you know how expensive that is?”

“Matter of fact, I do know. Fortunately, I won’t be paying him.”

“What—“ _Oh._ “Your father would hardly agree to represent me in court.”

“He might throw a fit at first, but he’d probably do it.”

“No, Draco, I won’t let you provoke a fight with your father for my sake.”

Draco glared at him. Finally, he shrugged and said, “He’ll find out eventually either way, so consider it. Otherwise we’ll think of a different solution. My point is: You will not end up behind bars, I can promise you that in good conscience.”

“Alright,” Harry said, unconvinced.

“Harry, look at me.” Draco cupped Harry’s face in his hand, turning him towards him. “It’s going to be fine, okay? We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“There’s still Riddle.”

“We’ll figure that out, too. For now you stay here and out of sight. You’re safe here. We both are. And we have all the time in the world.” Draco leaned in to press a sweet kiss to Harry’s lips. “I love you, Harry. Trust me?”

Harry exhaled shakily. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Draco kissed him again, then sat up, grimacing slightly. “I think we could both do with a shower.” He glanced at Harry, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Save some time and go together?”

Harry laughed, his tension finally easing away again. They’d figure it out, somehow. “Efficiency is key.”

“Lovely!” Draco practically jumped out of bed.

“Hey, Draco?”

“Mmh?” He looked back at Harry, already halfway across the room.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

_March 2004_

“Thank you, father … Yes, we will visit on Sunday for tea, as always … Goodbye.”

Draco put the receiver down, his hand shaking slightly from the monumental news his father had just given him. He glanced up at the clock. Harry wouldn’t be home for another hour.

On a whim, Draco grabbed his jacket, left the flat and started towards the nearest store. This news required more wine than what they still had at home. Perhaps even champagne. Or perhaps something much stronger than wine—it was hard to gauge, really, with news like that. Any reaction seemed possible.

Deciding that while he was at it he might as well bring home some groceries, Draco moved around the supermarket, hardly registering his surroundings as the past year replayed in his mind.

After Harry had moved in, it had indeed only been a matter of time before Draco’s father caught wind of the entire situation. Unsurprisingly, he’d been quite displeased—a disposition that only worsened when Draco flat-out refused to cut ties with Harry, staying firm even when Lucius threatened to disown him. In the end, it had been Draco’s mother who had made all the difference by losing her usually perfectly poised temper and lashing into her husband how he could dare to even think about abandoning their son.

Seeing that his wife was welcoming Harry into the family with open arms, there had been hardly any choice for Draco’s father other than to ensure that Harry’s name was cleared—as Draco had predicted. With Lucius Malfoy representing them in court, both Harry and Ron had not only been cleared of all charges against them, but also received a fair sum of money as compensation for being falsely accused and persecuted. The utterly dumbstruck look on Ron’s face after the judge had named the amount would always stay one of Draco’s most cherished memories.

In the wake of Harry’s and Ron’s acquittal, Riddle had in turn been put back on the Most Wanted list of the United Kingdom—and promptly fled the country.

The first few weeks had been tense, neither of them trusting the apparent safety with Riddle gone. Draco’s mother had very nearly succeeded in persuading Draco and Harry to move back to Malfoy Manor just so she would stop her fussing and worrying.

They hadn’t moved, ultimately, and eventually—very gradually—they had begun to relax. Not that they weren’t still being careful; certain habits would probably stay with them for years, if not the rest of their lives—but they’d relaxed, each in their own way.

During his time stuck at home before being acquitted Harry had started to spend his time crafting curious things; a habit that continued even after he was able to look for a job, until the flat had been so cluttered that exam-stressed Draco lost it and told him to either cut it out or make it a serious thing. Harry responded that you had to be good to make it a serious thing and stopped. A month later Draco had surprised Harry with a small rented workshop only five minutes from their flat and a brochure for the Royal College of Art.

It had taken some encouragement, but Harry crafted again and Draco studied. They walked other people’s dogs together—Sally was infatuated with Harry while Draco feigned outrage at the betrayal. They went to visit Draco’s parents on Sundays and Harry’s family at least once a week on a random day. They hung out with Ron and Hermione, who lived together now, or with Blaise and Neville, who, as it turned out, did fancy blokes after all.

Draco swiped his card, nodded to the cashier, grabbed the bags and went back home, feeling oddly light as he walked down the street. They had relaxed, yes, but never fully.

Barely five minutes after Draco had come home, the lock clicked again and he hurried to the hallway just in time to see Harry step in, closing the door behind himself.

“Harry, finally, I received important news from my father—“

“Draco! Guess what happened today, babe!”

They both broke off simultaneously.

“You first,” said Harry, looking positively giddy. Whatever Harry wanted to tell Draco, it was worth a celebration. A celebration that could potentially be utterly destroyed by what Draco had to say. Or increased tenfold.

“No, go ahead.” Draco couldn’t risk ruining Harry’s mood before even letting him tell whatever had him so excited.

Harry beamed. “I’m in! They accepted me!”

It took a second for Draco’s brain to catch on what he was talking about. “Seriously?!”

“Yes!” Harry pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from his coat pocket and waved it in Draco’s face until Draco grabbed it. Sure enough, there it was; the Royal College of Art logo printed boldly in the upper corner.

Draco read, “‘Dear Mr Harry James Potter, following your application for admission we are delighted to be able to _offer you a place at the Royal College of Art for the Academic Year 2004/2005’—Harry! Harry you made it!”_

Harry kissed him so fiercely that Draco dropped the letter as he melted into him. After a few blissful seconds, Harry pulled back, holding Draco’s face with both hands. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re the one who encouraged me, who made me try. I love you so much, Draco.”

“I love you, too,” Draco whispered, smiling softly as he pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. “Did you tell Ron and Hermione yet?”

“I literally _just_ opened the letter.”

“Well, call them! Call all of them, we’ll celebrate!” Draco grinned, feeling just as giddy as Harry looked. “Congratulations, love, you deserve it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Harry gave him another peck, then pulled away to shrug off his coat. “So, what ‘important news’ did your father have?”

Just like that, the warm, fuzzy feeling in Draco’s chest twisted. For a moment, he’d all but forgotten about it. He couldn’t _not_ tell him.

“Draco? Are you alright? What’s wr—“

“Riddle is dead.”

Harry froze, his hand halfway extended. Draco took a breath and forced himself to elaborate, “They found his body in Albania, in a forest near the coast. Identified beyond doubt, they even sent proof to my father. Apparently he was bitten by some snake and bled out.”

“Tom Riddle is dead,” said Harry, making it sound like a question. Draco nodded. “Your father told you that Tom Riddle is dead _and you let me talk first?!”_

There was a hint of hysteria in Harry’s voice and Draco reached out to grab his hand. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d be happy or upset, I didn’t want to ruin—“

“Upset?! Why would I be upset?! Tom Riddle is _dead!”_ Harry surged forward, picked Draco up and whirled him around in a circle. “He’s gone! Draco, we’re free!” He let out a delighted laugh. “No more worrying! No more constant vigilance whether someone is following us, no more looking back twice before entering the building. He’s gone!”

Finally, the knot in Draco’s stomach unravelled and he joined in Harry’s laughter. “Yes, he’s gone. He’s gone and you’re going to art school.”

“Fuck yeah,” Harry exclaimed, setting Draco on his feet again only to immediately pull him into a blazing kiss. “We really should celebrate,” he murmured against Draco’s lips, “but maybe we shouldn’t call our friends just yet.”

“Yeah?” Draco panted, as Harry’s mouth wandered down to his neck, licking and nibbling. “Did you have something specific in mind for a celebration?”

Harry detached himself from Draco’s neck just long enough to flash him a grin before continuing his ministrations on the other side as he slid his hands behind Draco’s thighs and promptly picked him up. “I have some ideas.”

Draco grinned. “Do tell.”

Harry only growled, already walking towards their bedroom. Draco laughed in delight.

Tom Riddle was gone. No more serial killers for them to worry about. Harry was going to start art school in only a few months, right when Draco would get his bachelor’s degree. For all intents and purposes, they’d have a good, normal life.

Still, Draco was sure it would never be boring. Nothing in their life was ever boring.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make me squeal <3  
> 


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